Chasms
by Syrasha
Summary: Worlds apart, yet so close together, they find themselves inexplicably in need of each other's services, for better or worse. Rated M later.
1. beginnings

Gilneans had always been of a different stock, or at least that's what Genn Greymane had told them for as long as Jacqueline could remember. That was why they had built the wall, after all, and she had never really wondered what was behind it. Who needed what was out there when they were _Gilneas_?

Gilneas had certainly needed what was out there once the Forsaken struck. The worgen curse had been bad enough; the undead only added insult to injury.

Being a monster wasn't the negative thing that the uninfected would have the populace believe, in Jacqueline's opinion. Armor didn't feel nearly as heavy anymore, and she moved faster in plate now than she could have naked before succumbing to the curse. Her father and brother hadn't been so lucky, of course; death came fairly swiftly to them. As far as Jacqueline knew, though, her mother and sister, uninfected, had made quite a life for themselves as merchants in Stormwind. She herself was perfectly content in Darnassus; the night elves' xenophobia nearly matched the average Gilnean's isolationist streak, and clashing heads was really the only way Jacqueline had ever known how to live.

If she was being generous to herself, Jacqueline might even say that she was building a reputation for herself as unruly, even for a worgen.

She wasn't in Darnassus often, though. Jacqueline was commonly on call for a variety of missions. Despite a general problem with non-Gilnean authority and a bit of a troubling, bloodthirsty streak, the night elves were not above asking for her services as a meat shield. Her reputation notwithstanding, Jacqueline had the loyalty of many a dog, and under such pretense was there a fateful proposition.

Rywen was a priestess, a waifish night elf close to Jacqueline's height, and the one commonly used to approach Jacqueline. The worgen's temperament made it sometimes difficult for the night elves to get what they wanted, but Rywen seemed to have a gift. The only time Jacqueline seemed to smile was when the younger night elf was near.

Rywen had wandered into the Craftsmen's Terrace, in search of her friend, but to no avail. Jacqueline wasn't particularly stealthy (she was only a warrior, no rogue, for certain), but she did have the occasional tendency to disappear. With a sigh and a head shake, Rywen turned around and more or less bumped noses with Jacqueline. The night elf yelped in surprise, and Jacqueline barked her throaty laugh.

Rubbing her nose in a decidedly improper way, Rywen mumbled, "Elune help me, that laugh of yours is a thing of nightmares." Jacqueline rolled her eyes, and Rywen continued, "I need your help."

"What do the esteemed kaldorei wish of me this fine day?" Her mockery did not go unnoted, and Rywen's eyes narrowed.

"The esteemed kaldorei in question is only me. I wanted only to ask for your help in traveling to Ashenvale." That seemed to get Jacqueline's attention.

"What exactly do you need from Ashenvale?"

"The High Priestess requests my aid, but I would rather not travel alone."

"Why not just fly?" Jacqueline's words, for once were genuine, though the blush that colored Rywen's face made it clear she took the words as an insult.

"You of all people know I cannot stand to fly."

"Oh yes, I completely forgot the incident in-"

"Besides the point," the night elf interjected, "I wanted you for my escort, but if you will not, I will find someone else."

"I never said no," Jacqueline snapped, "And I wasn't trying to be petty, I had simply forgotten. I'll be ready within the hour." Rywen harrumphed sourly, but thanked her. "You do know that there is no boat to Darkshore? We will have to fly at least that far." For better or worse, the journey began.

* * *

><p>Outside of Darnassus, Rywen was something almost entirely different. While night elves seemed to be pretentious by nature, much of her haughty air fell away the moment they hit the ground in Darkshore. Quickly hopping atop her dawnsaber, Rywen let out an unbridled laugh that almost got Jacqueline to follow suit. Jacqueline's hippogryph was determined to fly, and only through much effort was she stayed enough to walk.<p>

"You're killing her, Rywen. Look how badly she wants to fly."

Rywen scoffed with a flippant hand gesture. "Even if Malina sprouted wings, we would spend our time on the ground." The dawnsaber growled in agreement.

"We could almost have been in Ashenvale by sundown if we had flown," Jacqueline pointed out.

Rywen's jaw dropped, an odd sight combined with her glowing eyes and facial markings. "Perhaps, but if we had flown we wouldn't have had nearly this much time to take in these surroundings."

Thunder cracked. "You say that now, but you are aware that it's about to rain, correct?" Jacqueline asked.

Rywen scoffed again, flippant nature coming on strong since leaving the night elf capital. "You worry too much."

"I'm the warrior; you're the priestess. Which of us do you think is _truly_ in the business of worrying?"

"What is it your people say? Get gabbing or get going?"

Jacqueline rolled her eyes, the hippogryph not taking five steps before feeling the beginning of a sprinkle. "Yes, thank the Light for this scenery."

"Oh, be quiet," Rywen scolded. She was quiet for a moment, and then she perked up. "On the bright side, if we happen upon anything, we make the best team in the world."

And they wondered what Jacqueline saw in the night elf. "Aye, that we do, if only because I can take a beating long enough for you to get a heal or two out." Offended, Rywen gasped, fumbling for words to respond, and Jacqueline's throaty laugh came back in full force. "You're the best healer I know, Rywen, except maybe the High Priestess herself, and you're only a hundred years old."

Rywen blushed at that, ever the modest one, before saying, "Yes, well, you can take quite the hit for someone only fifteen."

Jacqueline hitched an eyebrow up. "I'm twenty-two, Rywen."

"Sorry," she responded sheepishly, "We live so long that I have trouble remembering where in your development you are…" Rywen trailed off. "I suppose that's a compliment though? I know humans at least value looking younger than they really are."

"Take another look at me and tell me anything about me looks human."

"Your eyes do," Rywen said frankly. "I know you have your _reputation_ to worry about. I won't tell anyone that you're not quite as monstrous as you make everyone believe."

* * *

><p>Jun'Ghan had never been particularly fond of orcs. Everything with orcs always seemed to end up messy, and they had a certain brutality that made Jun'Ghan's time with them uncomfortable, to say the least. Most of the Darkspear were glad to ally with orcs, and so was Jun'Ghan himself, so long as it was from a distance. Trolls were certainly not afraid of a little bloodshed, but it was somehow different with the orcs, and had only gotten worse since Garrosh Hellscream's ascension to Warchief.<p>

How he wound up on a mission to Ashenvale was a little beyond him. Orcs had no respect for his craft on the best of days, much less on the battlefield. Why bother with a spell when one could just hack it to death? The mage had given up trying to explain long ago.

But somehow, Jun'Ghan had found himself on the border between Azshara and Ashenvale, with an orcish hunter and death knight respectively. The death knight in particular was unnerving; there was something about being a servant to the Lich King that Jun'Ghan just couldn't stomach, no matter how many came forward stating their heroic deeds.

The troll found himself wondering what the Warchief had been thinking, and why at least a rogue hadn't been sent along with them. This was a stealth mission more than anything after all, and his comrades were not the most subtle, so far as he could see. Perhaps they would surprise him, but that possibility did not seem promising, especially if their target was as skilled as the Warchief had seemed to think.

A search for a night elf priestess seemed one thing. Taking the priestess hostage and getting her back to Orgrimmar alive was another issue entirely. The warrior in particular looked like he had never heard the word "prisoner" before. The hunter, Jun'Ghan reasoned, could at least keep pets, and in a roundabout, horrifying way, hostages were a little like pets.

It was some time before they had made it past Astranaar, the intent being to intercept the priestess before she made it to the night elf village and, by extension, into the protection of Tyrande Whisperwind. If they could stop the priestess from arriving, the Horde could press its advantage in Ashenvale, stopping a rather powerful reinforcement from arriving. In the woods, soon after, Jun'Ghan began to hear Common.

It had been several years since he had spoken Common; most trolls spoke Zandali among themselves, and even that had begun to fall to the wayside as they had begun to integrate into the Horde and speak Orcish more often. Still, Jun'Ghan was still more than capable of understanding it, even if his speaking was subpar.

"An hour's riding more, at most. Think of it, a proper bed." It was very clear that the speaker was kaldorei; the Darnassian accent was hard to miss, and the troll shot a look at his companions, who immediately were at the ready. After a moment's pause, the night elf spoke again, "Would you please change back? Your human form is… somewhat unsettling. I've only ever known you as worgen."

A second voice laughed, and the hunter and Jun'Ghan exchanged looks; the Warchief had made it very clear that there should have been just the priestess, an easy target. A second person complicated things.

"What? You're the only person I've ever heard complain that I don't look monstrous enough."

"It's simply unnerv-" A scream punctuated the priestess's thought, and suddenly the hunter and Jun'Ghan were very aware of the death knight's absence. Standing over the priestess's body, knocked out cold from a swift blow to the head, the orc was quick to fall himself to a worgen full of fury. An axe to the neck swiftly beheaded him, the worgen snarling with rage, and she kicked his lifeless body away, kneeling down to check on the priestess.

"Rywen…" the beast howled, and as she picked up the night elf, the hunter stood, lodging a bullet in her leg as she attempted to dash the night elf to Astranaar. For good measure, Jun'Ghan froze the worgen warrior where she stood, snarling, furious, a terror even while wounded and immobile.

"Should we take her as well?" the hunter asked. It was a question that Jun'Ghan had not considered, but the troll found himself nodding.

"If da priestess be worth so much tah da Warchief, having her friend with us could make her more… cooperative." The worgen lashed out, attempting to break free of the ice encasing the ground around her and failing. "She may have set da record for fastest decapitation."

"That was impressive," the hunter admitted as well, "Mahlguld was not very bright, but I did not expect to see him fall that fast to death." With that, the hunter swung up his gun, bashing the still growling worgen in the back of the head. The warrior and the priestess fell to the ground in a heap.

The mage sighed. "Tah Orgrimmar, yeah?" The hunter nodded, and the mage set to work creating the portal that would get them home much quicker than it took them to get to Ashenvale to begin with.

* * *

><p><strong>i'm not sure this is a first chapter so much as a prologue. i've been playing wow for a while now, and a world that big leaves me with all kinds of ideas so... this fanfic is the first product of my imagination, despite all the ideas that have been flying around anyway. rywen was actually the name of a mage that i played on a private server for a little while lol.<strong>

**anyway! got a lot of conflicting information about languages before writing this, so the idea is this; common is known to everyone in the alliance, but the horde has a minimal knowledge despite what the lore tells us. language barrier is key! hope you enjoyed. thank you for reading, and see you next time 3**

**-syrasha**


	2. treason

The rage didn't usually build up in her to the point where she saw red, but Jacqueline's vision was scarlet, with little end in sight. Worgen were not cruel, but the uninfected whispered that they lost some of their human touches as they descended into the dark. If anyone saw Jacqueline in her first waking moments, the rumors would have had enough proof to circulate for years.

She hadn't been so furious since before she'd regained a sliver of her humanity. Jacqueline seemed more wolf than woman, and that probably would have been menacing, had they not stripped her of her armor and chained her by the wrists.

Jun'Ghan was almost scared as he watched her. They thought trolls savage, and the Alliance fancied themselves more civilized, but this worgen was on another plane entirely.

The unintelligible howling ceased, and in between her animalistic snarls, Jacqueline seethed, "Where is Rywen?"

She didn't expect him to answer, and Jun'Ghan's choppy Common was long out of practice. He opened his mouth before closing it, thinking better of answering the worgen. He took a step closer, prompting a menacing growl, and Jun'Ghan quickly took a step back out of reflex.

If Jun'Ghan didn't know better, he would have said the wolf in her smelled his weakness. "_Where_ is the _elf_?" Jacqueline asked once more.

Jun'Ghan found himself answering before he could stop himself. "Rywen? That be… her name?"

Jacqueline's eyes widened; she hadn't expected him to speak Common, especially not understand her Gilnean dialect. "Yes," she shook herself out of the shock, hoping to pry what information she could from the troll. "Where is Rywen?"

In truth, the troll was not certain where the priestess was. The moment he and the hunter (Throgvor, Jun'Ghan had learned, was his name) had arrived back in Orgrimmar, a sentry of the Warchief had whisked Rywen away. If he had known, Jun'Ghan likely would not have told her, and he lied regardless, hoping to ease the worgen's anger. "She be safe."

"You're a liar." Jun'Ghan would have shrunk beneath her gaze had he been a lesser troll.

"I been told you worgen care not much for da other races. What be so special 'bout dis little elf? Beastie like you could tear apart a priestess much easier than the way you tore apart dat death knight before."

The glare she gave him chilled his soul in a way he had only ever felt around the Forsaken. "I will rip you all apart the moment I hear that any harm has fallen on her. You will be the first."

He left Jacqueline's cell, the eerie silence following her statement making every one of his footsteps echo. That worgen, he ruminated, was a force of nature.

* * *

><p>Jun'Ghan saw the priestess not much later that day, and sincerely wished he hadn't. His apprehension around the worgen permitted, even he would not have treated the night elf so cruelly. The blood on her face nearly camouflaged the markings on the kaldorei's face, and it was very clear that three of her fingers were broken.<p>

Some hulking orc had found Jun'Ghan searching for spirits, telling him the Warchief had requested that he transport the priestess to the cells with her worgen friend. The moment he arrived, to Jun'Ghan it was clear; Garrosh had been trying to weasel something out of her, and probably hadn't gotten it yet.. What the Warchief wanted, Jun'Ghan wasn't sure, but this was brutal for even Garrosh. Jun'Ghan had been under the impression that they were keeping a hostage, prisoner even. He hadn't been aware that torture had been part of the mission. Against his better judgment, the troll felt an inkling of empathy for the elf.

So here he had found himself, a mangled night elf at his feet, with orcs at all sides. Everyone knew Garrosh didn't trust the trolls; even these small tasks were nothing but feeble attempts to keep Vol'jin on Garrosh's side. In fact, all Jun'Ghan could think as he knelt down to the elf was how terribly not fond of orcs he was (usually – Throgvor, for example, was an exception to the rule, even to the point where Jun'Ghan could almost consider the hunter a friend). The crumpled kaldorei whimpered pathetically, and Jun'Ghan found himself whispering to her in Common, despite being fairly certain that the orcs around him wouldn't understand even if they could hear him.

"Come, little elf. I be takin' you to your friend. She be telling me your name be Rywen?"

He had never seen an elf, night or blood, cry, but when she looked at him, the tears made her eyes glow even more than was normal. Her sorrow was controlled, but evident, and she looked at him with guarded hope. "You know," she started, and as she continued, Jun'Ghan wondered how much of her pride it took to speak as her voice shook. "They say that my people and yours were one, once."

"Aye, little elf. That they do say. Come, and I be happy to listen to all you be sayin'." Jun'Ghan brought Rywen to her feet, and she cried out almost immediately. Jun'Ghan winced as her screams pierced the eerie, militant silence they were surrounded by. In hushed tones, not even believing he was saying it, he said, "They be like wolves, little elf. They already be thinkin' they broke you. They be happy to finish the job if you let them."

So Rywen limped away from those who had beat her, and Jun'Ghan sucked in a deep breath when he heard an orc behind him shout out, "Don't be too gentle with her, troll, or she won't be ready for the next round."

Her robe was in tatters, and upon closer inspection, Jun'Ghan found that the tip of her left ear was missing, her lip was split, and she trembled with every step. He was so engrossed in analyzing her that he almost didn't hear her when she spoke.

"Jacqueline… Is Jacqueline alright?" Rywen spoke softly, and Jun'Ghan wondered what mess he was getting into, empathizing with someone who very clearly had no good path ahead of them. "I know she wouldn't have let them – you –" her eyes flitted over to him nervously, "take me without a fight."

"Jacqueline be her name?" His tongue stumbled over the name, the Common words already feeling foreign, and the Gilnean name just as foreign. "She would have burned down Orgrimmar if it kept you safe, little elf."

Rywen smiled a little smile at that.

"Come. We be here." He gestured to the door where Jacqueline was. "It probably be nothin' like you be used to, but orcs aren't known for their sense of décor."

* * *

><p>The door swung open again, and Jacqueline was distinctly aware of the fact that she couldn't feel her arms. That didn't matter, though, as the troll from before brought Rywen into view, almost tenderly.<p>

"Rywen…" Jacqueline was almost relieved for a moment before taking in the elf's condition. Her eyes shot to the troll. "What did you do?"

To her surprise, it was Rywen that spoke. "He did nothing, Jacqueline. All he did was bring me to you."

It was hard not to bare her teeth, but eventually Jacqueline managed to get rid of her snarl. "Now, I can't believe I be sayin' dis," Jun'Ghan started, "But where did dey hurt ya da most?"

"If you would only unbind me for a moment," the pleading tone in Rywen's voice only made Jacqueline angrier, "I could fix everything myself. By Elune, I swear I'll do nothing but heal myself."

"You know I can't be lettin' you do dat, little elf." Jun'Ghan's tone was flat; he wanted to help Rywen, Jacqueline realized, but couldn't. "I'll bring someone who can fix ya up. A shaman friend of mine. He be trustworthy."

He allowed Rywen to sit – they must have injured her legs – but tied her up still similarly to Jacqueline herself. "Your beastly friend here be taking good care of ya. She'd rip out of those chains in a moment if anyone came to touch ya here, little elf."

The troll turned to leave, but the priestess's voice stopped him. "Jun'Ghan."

He turned to look at her, a little unnerved. "I did not tell ya my name…"

Rywen smiled at him. "Elune tells me many things. Shaha lor'ma."

He squinted at her. "You be mockin' me. I know my Common be far from good, but there be no need to bring your Darnassian into dis."

"She said thank you, you ungrateful troll." The worgen snarled again, her distaste for him evident.

"Fus'obeah fu. Now you can say you know some Zandali." As Jun'Ghan exited, he shook his head. The worgen was terrifying, and the priestess seemed an embodiment of the Light itself – fragile, trusting, and ethereal.

* * *

><p>"They will come back for me, Jacqueline." The priestess was quiet as she spoke. "They wish to know the secrets of Darnassus, of the High Priestess. They will kill me. The troll is kind, but he holds no power. They will not get what they wish from me, and they will kill me for it."<p>

"I would like to see them try." The fire that burned in the worgen's eyes made Rywen's heart soar. There was no one like Jacqueline on all of Azeroth, fiercely loyal and making threats even with her hands bound above her head. "And the troll is not kind. The troll helped to steal you."

"He was on orders."

"Do not _defend_ them," Jacqueline snarled in disbelief.

"I do not defend them. I defend him. How many men have you killed on orders? Are you not still a loyal and faithful friend? Would you not protect me until your last breath?" The worgen was silent, though clearly still dissatisfied. "He was on orders. Jun'Ghan is kind. You did not see the circumstances from which he brought me here."

"Yes, how kind," Jacqueline snorted, "He brought you here to share this prison with me."

"Your youth makes you rash." Rywen shook her head. "I will not leave these dungeons alive, Jacqueline. They do not plan to let me go at all; they will kill me before that."

"They will kill me before I let them take your life from you, Rywen. By the Light, I swear it."

* * *

><p>Despite their hushed tones, it had been easy for Jun'Ghan to hear them speak in the silence of the holding cells. The elf was under no delusions of the cruelty that would be afforded her, and the worgen was blinded by her sense of duty. Jun'Ghan had no doubt that she would die to save Rywen… but they weren't interested in the worgen. The worgen had been nothing but collateral damage.<p>

Jun'Ghan had never believed night elves to be as wise as their reputation, but Rywen was certainly living up to it. The Alliance were not the saints that they projected themselves to be, but the Horde certainly were no better (if perhaps a little less hypocritical, Jun'Ghan allowed).

Unsure if it was treason, but certain that the Warchief would think it so, Jun'Ghan found himself knocking on the door of a shaman friend. He would not forsake the priestess what little comfort he could give her, Orcish honor be damned.

The door swung open, and Jun'Ghan found himself face to face with Razke. The darker troll's mouth split wide with a grin, tusks glinting in the sun. "Come in, my friend," Razke fell into Zandali as soon as he saw the mage, "What can Razke do for his friend on this fine day?"

Jun'Ghan stepped through the door frame. "You could not accuse me of treason for the favor I'm about to ask you."

Razke raised his eyebrows at that, but Jun'Ghan knew he had come to the right place for help. The shaman's eyes twinkled with curiosity. "Please explain."

And the entire story came tumbling out of Jun'Ghan's mouth, from watching the worgen take off the head of that orc, to finding the night elf in a heap surrounded by orcs who seemed more like vultures, to eavesdropping long enough to actually hear Rywen defend his virtue. Razke listened intently, asking only for clarification, never long enough to interrupt. The shaman sighed, and said, "You're a fool, Jun'Ghan. You couldn't just find a troll woman to be attached to. You suddenly grow protective of a _night elf_ of all races, notwithstanding her status as a very important political prisoner." Jun'Ghan's silence affirmed the truth.

"It's not as though I'm about to just steal her away. You're a healer, Razke. Don't you struggle seeing others in pain?"

Razke's laughs echoed through the hut. "Jun'Ghan, my friend, you'll fool no one with that act. Don't try." Jun'Ghan averted his eyes before the shaman continued. "I will help your priestess, mage. I hope she is pretty enough to justify risking our necks for her."

* * *

><p>"Rywen was due a day ago. Where is she?" Tyrande Whisperwind's fury was legendary. The High Priestess was rarely anything but gentle and kind, but she had enough experience leading her people to war to be fierce.<p>

Said fierceness set the sentry from Darnassus trembling. "I am not sure, High Priestess. I was sent from Darnassus to find if she had arrived. Rywen was meant to send word once reaching Astranaar."

"Clearly, she is not here." Tyrande paused. "I was told that she traveled with an escort, a worgen warrior. Is there any news of her?"

"No, High Priestess," the sentry's voice shook, "and Jacqueline protects Rywen as if she is also of Gilneas. There is no doubt that whatever harm befell Rywen, Jacqueline fought with her life to prevent."

"Go back to Darnassus," Tyrande waved a hand in the city's direction. "Tell Genn Greymane that two of ours are missing. A rogue is due back here from Orgrimmar on a scouting mission in a few days. If the Horde took them, he will tell us of it."

The sentry nodded. "Yes, High Priestess."

The sentry was off again, hippogryph flying off from the way it came, and Tyrande's face fell. "If he thinks he will take one of the kaldorei's best priestesses, Garrosh Hellscream is quite mistaken."

* * *

><p><strong>hello again! sorry it's been so long, but happy thanksgiving! i hope everyone enjoyed the chapter and i hope that your turkey day was great if you celebrate that kind of thing. :) please let me know what you think! <strong>

**much love  
>- syrasha<strong>


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